Okay, so this is the first oneshot that I've actually bothered to post. It is also the first time I've written something Eve related. Hoorah! I wrote this on the fly so I don't even know what to make of it. You could see it as romance or friendship or any number of things; it's pretty open to interpretation.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon or any of its characters, settings, plots, etc.
So yeah, I hope you like it and all that jazz…
"He is so… stupid…" Eve mumbled to no one in particular. Her eyelids were drooping and her words were slurring together. Anyone with eyes could see that she was drunk.
The small wooden clock hanging high on the wall stuck four in the morning just as Eve finished off her Goddess-knows-how-many-th glass of with a dainty sip.
Though the barmaid's vision was fuzzy, she assumed that the bar was empty of all notable persons. Hank was there but he had long since passed out on the floor. Duke had just gone to fetch Blue- the rancher was used to having to come and carry his uncle home by now and probably wouldn't be surprised to see Duke on his doorstep.
Eve staggered alarmingly, clutching the bar and the stem of her glass for support. Under normal conditions, Eve held her alcohol very well and knew to drink in moderation. But, she thought bitterly, These aren't normal conditions.
As she was reaching for the deep green neck of her wine bottle, she swayed, set off balance by her release of the counter. Her knees buckled beneath her and Eve crumpled, he glass slipping from her fingers and shattering on the hardwood floor. She swore, but her speech was now almost incomprehensible. In a heap on the ground, shards of glass in her bleeding hand, the weight of it all crashed down on Eve and a lump rose in her throat. She fought the urge to cry valiantly; she might be more intoxicated than she'd ever been in her life, but Eve refused to cry. That would do nothing to improve her situation.
Of course, nearly two bottles of red wine hadn't helped much either.
Out of the mist, a man with a strong, gentle grip took hold of Eve's arms and carefully lifted her up, setting her down on a barstool. The stranger sat down next to her and held Eve's bloody hand, examining it carefully.
"You need to go see Alex," he said concernedly. He sounded achingly familiar but, in her current state, Eve might not have recognized her own grandfather's gravely voice.
"I don'need Alex," she snapped, struggling to keep her words articulate. "and I certainly don'need him."
The man sounded confused. "Who? Alex?"
"You know damn well 'who'!" Eve flared up angrily, then slumped forward, out of energy. "Sorry," she murmured. "I'm just a little upset."
Silence then, "Um, do you want to talk about it?" Eve turned and squinted at the man. No good; his features were blurred beyond any recognition. But he seemed so familiar…
"He left," Eve confided quietly. "Jus'up and left. Barely said goodbye."
The man appeared to nod as Eve again faced the desire to burst in to tears. She took a deep breath in an effort to collect herself somewhat. "He does this- this kind of thing a lot," She whispered finally. "You'd think I'd learn. I… sometimes wonder if Dan really cares at all…"
Eve winced. There, she'd said it. The thing that was causing her so much pain and that she had been fighting ever since she met Dan was finally out in the open. People say that talking about issues that bother you helps you to get a handle on them but for Eve, saying her deepest fear out loud made it real, made it far, far worse. It was so legitimate, so possible.
Eve moaned piteously and rubbed her eyes.
There was a long pause in which the man considered her words. At last, he replied carefully. "I know it seems like he's leaving you but I do think that Dan really does love you," Eve looked up. The man had shockingly blue eyes. Where had she seen them before? "Maybe," he continued. "Maybe he leaves for you. To make himself better, more worthy of you."
Eve turned this over in her mind. "Pretty word," she rolled her eyes, her hand searching for her glass only to remember that she had broken it. She sighed. "but I don't think so."
"This will probably sound awful," the blue-eyes said apprehensively, more to himself than to Eve. "but you're… distrustful- I'm sorry, but it's who you are. You need to trust Dan, Eve. He trusts you."
Eve raised her eyebrows in cold skepticism. His blue eyes met her gaze calmly. He was slowly beginning to swim into focus. Was he right?
"I'm back," Duke called. Eve spun around, nearly falling off her stool. She could just make out the figures of her uncle and Blue as they strode into the bar. Duke froze, shocked by the scene Eve had created.
"Eve! What in the Goddess's name happened here?" the bartender managed to choke out. "And Ray, when did you get here? It's so late!"
Recognition dawned on Eve and all the pieces of the stranger's identity fell into place. So it was Ray. Eve knew she'd seen those eyes and heard that voice somewhere. She rounded on the fisherman, her red eyes burning a hole in him.
Ray, obviously uncomfortable, took the opportunity to say, "Eve slipped and cut her hand. She needs to see Alex."
Duke nodded steadily, eyes flicking between his niece, Ray, and Hank, stil unconscious on the floor. "I'm sorry to ask Ray," he said finally, scrutinizing Eve. "but could you walk her to the clinic. I have to help Blue with Hank you know, other wise I would go myself," he trailed off, his gaze resting imploringly upon the fisherman.
Ray shook his head. "It's no trouble," he stood and helped Eve off her stool. While she had sobered up a bit by now, she was still so dizzy that she had to cling to Ray to walk in a straight line. Together, taking small, slow steps, they exited the Moonlight Café and set off on the packed dirt road to the Clinic.
It was chilly, forcing Eve and her bare shoulders to cling to Ray's arm; he was remarkably warm considering that he also wore no sleeves. The sky was grey, the stars fading in the weak early morning light. Flowerbud Village was peaceful and still. Not even Jamie had gotten up yet.
Ray and Eve had been walking for a while and were nearing the Clinic when Eve glanced up at him and asked. "Why?" She didn't need to say more, Ray understood.
"I'd just walked in when you collapsed and I couldn't leave you there like that," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. "I care about you Eve and I think you deserve to be happy as much as the next person," he sounded embarrassed, but sincere.
Eve's eyes narrowed. "Yes, but why-?"
But she couldn't finish. They had reached the Clinic and Ray was already knocking on the door. Eve half-scowled, half-pouted. It was too late to ask now and she knew it.
The heavy wooden door opened a crack then swung inward to reveal Martha, her blue hair in curlers, looking perfectly appalled. Eve supposed that she must have been a real sight. She frowned, hand on her forehead; she was already getting a splitting headache.
Martha proceeded to drag her inside, babbling about the late hour and the state of Eve while hollering for Alex. Ray stayed behind, standing awkwardly at the door. He muttered something about fishing and escaped. Eve watched him go over her shoulder, no longer sure what to think of him.
The elderly midwife brought Eve into a small, hygienic room lined with neat, white shelves and cabinets. She motioned for Eve to sit down on a simple, wooden chair in the center of the floor- it was the only piece of furniture in the room. As Martha fussed over Eve and Alex entered the room bleary-eyed and yawning, Eve pondered Ray's words. For a shy, goofy fisherman, he could really say an earful.
The memory that continued to return to her, however, was that of Ray explaining his reason for helping her. She wasn't used to such random acts of kindness and simply couldn't understand his motives. A dejected frown spread across Eve's pretty features. Just because everyone deserved to be happy doesn't mean they can or will be. How could he be so optimistic?
"You're… distrustful. I'm sorry- but it's who you are."
Against her will, Eve's lips curled into a tiny smile. Well, Ray at least seemed to know what was talking about. Maybe he had a point. She was safe in Flowerbud Village- she had a job, family, and a sometimes boyfriend- maybe she should relax. Trust that safety. Maybe.
Eve winced as Alex pulled a fragment of glass from her palm. In the next room over, Alex's bedroom/office, a tall grandfather clock struck four thirty in the morning.
Well, there it is. What did you think? There are quite a few things that I'm worried weren't accurate or that were too cheesy (I was going for more of a dramative feel, you know?). As always, I implore you to please review. Obviously I would prefer that you did not flame but, if that's the only way you can express yourself, then whatever. Regardless of what you do next, thank you for reading this far- it means a lot to me. Au revoir mes amis.